Legacy
by burnthebook
Summary: Savannah wanted to leave. She's wanted to leave the family ranch for some time now. Two years ago her parents died in an accident, leaving her and her two brothers to raise themselves, and take care of the land. But home doesn't feel like home anymore. So when the opportunity arises, Savannah jumps at the chance to move to her mom's hometown in California. Slow burn Isaac/Sav
1. Prologue

_Bolton, Texas. 2 years ago_

The seasons were starting to change again. The air was cooler than it had been in months. That just meant that it was finally a reasonable temperature instead of the blazing Texas summer we had all been suffering through. The change in the weather signaled a few things, the start of school, which was last month, and the beginning of football season. My dad, my brother Adam, and I had been football fans since birth. But this season was different, this season Adam was going to be on the field.

When I got home I knew I had to feed the horses and do my other barn chores, then get ready for his game. This was the first home game of the season and we all were a little too excited for Adam's liking. He was easily embarrassed and didn't want us to make a big deal out of it - so we made it a huge deal.

Dad and Ezra had been fixing a fence on the east side of the ranch this afternoon. Both of them were sore and sweaty by the time they got back. I had just finished mucking out the stalls when they lead their horses in. I leaned against the rake I had in my hands.

"Did you ever reach any kind of agreement with the jackasses next door?" I asked dad.

"Savannah, language," he scolded as he took off his hat and ran his hand through sweaty dark hair.

The fence separating our land from the Thompson's farm had finally collapsed. We didn't know about it until Mr. Thompson came storming over here one afternoon, angry that our cattle had gotten onto his fields. The agreement Mr. Thompson's father and my grandparents had was that if the fence were to ever need repairs, we would split the cost down the middle. That time has arrived and now they are refusing to pay.

"No, we didn't. The stubborn bastard says that since its our cattle, its our fence to pay for," he answered.

"I still say that if they want our cattle off their cotton so bad, they should help pay for the fence. It isn't just our fence if it's benefiting their ass too. If they want our cattle to eat up all their crop, they can keep being difficult. Why do we bother fixing the fence and paying for it in full?" Ezra chimed in. Dad would never admit it, but I knew that he and Ezra had this special bond. Ezra is the oldest and looks exactly like Dad in just about every way, they even act similar. They've always been close, closer than I've ever been to either of my parents.

"I'll talk to him about it again soon. We can't get into it with them. We can probably come to some agreement eventually. I just wish the guy would respect what his father promised," Dad added. "Let's just finish up here so we can head to the game. There's supposed to be a good turn out tonight, we'd better get there early for good seats!" he smiled. His excitement was almost contagious. We all hurried to finish our chores and head inside to shower and get ready.

* * *

My grip on the little bag of popcorn was tightening. All of us were frozen staring at the field. I could feel my heart beating in my chest.

"Interception by Adam Montgomery," the announcer yelled into the microphone. Dad stood up and whistled, while the rest of us hollered. Adam was running with the ball towards the endzone, but the excitement was short lived.

We all cringed as Adam was tackled to the ground 20 yards away from a touchdown.

"There is no way that guy is in high school! What's he weigh, 280?" Dad complained, a little too loudly for our liking. His accent even more pronounced in the heat of the moment. He sat down in a huff as Mom grabbed his hand, trying to calm him down.

"I still think this sport is too violent. Why couldn't we have convinced him to play basketball like Ezra? No one gets hurt in basketball," Mom complained. She moved to adjust her umbrella. Mom didn't like being in direct sunlight.

"He's fine Olivia. Getting taken down every once in a while builds character. We wouldn't want him to go around thinking he's invincible, would we?"

"God forbid," Ezra remarked with an eye roll. He reached over and stole a handful of my popcorn. I yanked it away and sent him a glare. "Remember how bruised up I got in basketball Mom? Besides, convincing Adam to quit football is like convincing the sun not to rise in the east every mornin', and you know it," he continued.

"Speaking of the sun, honey the sun is going down, you don't need the umbrella anymore," Dad said, motioning to the thing blocking the view of the people sitting behind us.

"It'll still be up for at least another 45 minutes. I don't want to end up with leathery skin like you, cowboy. And you know I burn easily," Mom laughed.

"You'll always be stunning to me darlin', even if you look like a leather glove," he teased. Ezra and I fake gagged behind them. I don't think Mom will ever look anything but gorgeous. She has a few gray hairs framing her face, but they blend in with her silky blonde waves beautifully. Adam and I got her hair, thank God, instead of Dad and Ezra's dark unmanageable curls.

"You two are disgusting," I complained.

"You know when I lived in California, people played baseball, or basketball, and no one broke any bones!" she continued. Her umbrella shaking with the forceful words.

"This isn't California, honey. We play football here, good luck convincing anyone to do otherwise," Dad laughed.

"Mom, he's fine. You know how hardheaded he is. It would take a lot more than a tackle to ever dent that iron skull," I said with a laugh, looking back to the field. They were all in a huddle, the game was going to be close, but we might be able to pull a win.

"Savy, please promise me that you won't play a dangerous sport," Mom begged me. I smiled at her concern. She cared about us all a little too much for her own good. Working the ranch has its dangers and sometimes we would all come home to her pacing the porch outside when she thought we had been out too long. That's probably the reason for the tiny little crow's feet around her blue eyes. But I'd like to think it's her smile that caused them.

"I can promise that I won't play football mom," I answered. Ezra chuckled beside me and I kicked him lightly. The ref's whistle flew through the air, bringing our attention back to the game.

"I told you he was going to be good! I think we've got a champion in the family, Olivia!" Dad said excitedly as we all walked onto the field. Adam played really well tonight, better than we expected honestly. The team lost, but Dad was still so happy. We all took pictures with Adam, which he hated, but tolerated.

"We lost, I don't see the point of taking pictures. We don't want to remember this," Adam complained.

"In a few years we wont remember who won or lost, we'll just remember that you played so well in your first home game!" Mom beamed.

A few minutes later, Adam's coach was calling him back to the locker room. Apparently, he had some speech for them. Probably something to keep their spirits up or more likely to chew them out for loosing. Adam was going home with a friend tonight, so we didn't wait up for him. We all piled in Dad's pickup and started the drive back to the ranch.

My memories of everything after that are a little blurry. I remember listening to a really old country song on the radio. I hated this song; it was too depressing. I remember my parents holding hands over the console. Dad and I talking about our favorite parts of the game and how horrible the ref's were. But weren't they always? I remember Ezra mentioning the Thompson fence as we drove past the lights of the small town and into the dark ranch land outside it. Then I remember looking over at him and my heart stopped. There were two headlights barreling towards Ezra and Mom's side of the pickup. Then there was the sound of bending metal and breaking glass. I remember time slowing down and not being able to do anything. I looked out the window and saw the world spinning. Then everything stopped.

I first became conscious when I was still in the car. The world was motionless again and it was quiet. Very quiet. We were upside down, I knew that immediately. I couldn't see my parents. My heart began to race and I couldn't breathe. _Where are they?_ Were they thrown from the vehicle? Are they just out of my sight? I only saw the headlights of our pickup shining into a field. My neck ached as I turned and looked over at Ezra. There was a lot of blood on his face and he wasn't moving. _He wasn't moving_. I slowly reached over to him. A sharp pain spread as I extended my arm. I didn't have much strength. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it as hard as I could. Then the darkness pulled me under.


	2. Chapter 1

It's been almost 2 years since I woke up in the hospital in Lubbock. Ezra and I had been airlifted from the wreck, and Lubbock, though about 2 hours away, was the closest hospital that could handle this kind of trauma.

I remember two sets of steady beeps pulling me awake. They were our heartbeats on the monitors, one mine, the other Ezra's. I was in a lot of pain, I knew that. But where from I wasn't sure. It felt like everywhere but far away at the same time. When my vision cleared up enough, I looked around the room. Everything seemed a little off, but I couldn't quite place why. I was flooded with the smell of disinfectant and coffee. I blinked a few more times, trying to shake the tunnel vision I had woken up with.

Ezra was in a bed to my right, he was unconscious and Adam was sitting in a chair between us. His hand was wrapped around mine and he was staring off into space. The look on his face was indescribable. A moment later we locked eyes, and I knew. The air caught in my lungs and I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, I could only feel.

Adam held me as I screamed and let out my grief. He was feeling the same pain I was, and he sobbed into my shoulder. We both cried and held each other for hours, until we were both exhausted and out of tears to shed. I had four broken ribs, along with whiplash and some cuts and scrapes. There was a large bruise on the back of my head which made it painful to lay back. With each sob, breath and cough my chest erupted in pain. I'm not sure if Adam felt it too, but I was overcome with this feeling of loneliness. The entire world was different, wrong, and it was just us left. It was Ezra, Adam and I and that was all. My entire family was in this room. I was physically stitched together, Adam emotionally, and Ezra was barely holding on.

Ezra had a severe head injury, the doctors told us the technical name and some other big words but all Adam and I got from it was that it wasn't good. When he finally gets to the end of his never-ending bad news, Adam and I were left alone with our big brother and the machine that was making sure he would be okay.

Days passed and finally Ezra began to stir. Slowly he made progress. He would wake up for a few minutes and then he would go back to sleep. The insane amount of pain killers he was on were keeping him groggy and the nurses said that sleep is very important for him to heal. They kept telling me that he was getting better day by day. But that was just what they were saying. I couldn't see it. I was impatient. All I saw was him sleeping most of the day and bandages being taken off then new ones being put right back on. I wanted Ezra to wake up and stay awake for the entire day. I wanted him to talk and tell Adam and I that things were going to be okay. I wanted my big brother back.

Our dad's second cousin or something came to stay with Adam and I at the ranch. She was our temporary guardian until Ezra was better and "could assume the responsibility." She was better than the foster system, but not by much. The only plus to her being around was that she could sign things for us. Like my withdrawal papers from school. I had to be with Ezra as much as possible. We didn't want him to get better and be coherent without one of us there to explain to him the worst part. Adam wasn't old enough to drive himself to and from the hospital, so I took him whenever I could. The doctors told us that it would be better for his recovery that we don't tell him about our parents until he was out of the woods and across town.

I started homeschooling online so I could stay with him at the hospital. Adam wanted to stay in school, but he was at the hospital with Ezra whenever there was the opportunity.

It was a few weeks before Ezra was strong enough to stay awake for several hours at a time. Then we had to go through it again, telling Ezra that a truck driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and hit us. We had to tell him that our parents didn't survive the crash. He didn't react as strongly as Adam and I. He just sat there and nodded. I could tell that he was deeply upset but he was holding it back. But that was Ezra. He was the strong one, he was the one that could handle anything.

Besides the head injury, Ezra also had a broken collarbone and muscle damage to his right shoulder. Plus too many bruises and cuts to count. After some serious physical therapy and time, he would be okay. Not the same, but okay. He would have to go easy on that arm for the rest of his life. Normally this wouldn't be an issue, but when you live and work on a ranch, you have to carry bales of hay and load firewood into the back of a truck. It had been Dad, Ezra, and Adam all this time. They were all strong proud men who dedicated their lives to working on this land. Now it was just Adam, ¾ of Ezra, and I. I was still a kid, but I had to pick up the slack and work. It was my legacy too, and I was going to protect it.

I was 15 when my parents died, and we've all been working ever since. With the loss of both our parent's incomes, plus Ezra and I's medical bills, we've all been working our asses off since the accident. I'm 17 now, and still doing high school online so I can work on the ranch and manage two jobs. Making ends meet isn't easy, but we handle it. We only spend money where we absolutely have to. On things that aren't single use or temporary.

Except for feed, that we have to spend on. Its early fall now and that means winter is coming. It still far enough away that the feed is cheaper. Less ranchers are buying it right now because it's really not necessary, and almost foolish to get it now. It won't stay fresh forever. But we've got to get it now or we won't be able to afford it later. The cattle have to gain some weight now so they can be nice and fat in the winter when the grass is sparse. Then during the colder months, we will go out and feed again to make sure the cattle are getting enough calories to keep them warm. So I'm making the drive into Bolton to the feed store to grab the bags.

The drive into town from the ranch wasn't far but it sure as hell wasn't fun. Every trip into town meant that I had to drive past the two crosses on the side of the road, twice. Whenever I passed them there was always this twist to my gut, a reminder of what had happened and what we had lost.

I slowed down as I entered town. The town limits sign was old and rusted in a couple places, but no one ever made any effort to change it. We all knew the population was lower than what the sign read, as the oil boom had brought people to Bolton years ago, but after the bust most of them left.

_**BOLTON **__pop.1,634_

The recession had hit us farming and ranching families especially hard. Our income isn't set or promised, but the rise in gas prices and general cost of living made making ends meet in this town very hard. It was a heartbreaking sight, watching ranches that had been in families for generations be sold off. Even the Cortezes sold off a section of their ranch. They've been in this town nearly as long as we have.

I pulled into the back of the feed store on Main. Ezra had called in our order a last week and sent me with the money. Jacob had called a few days ago to tell us that the feed would be ready to be picked up anytime on Saturday. In a small effort to avoid the heat, I decided to come early. The feed store doubled as a hardware store, and even had a few groceries. There was nothing by the means of milk or eggs, but if you wanted a suspicious can of beans real quick this is where you came.

"Well, if it isn't Miss Savannah Montgomery," came a voice from behind a stack of pallets. A smile broke out on my face.

"Hey Jake, how've things been? You hear about the weather we've got coming in? I hear it's gonna rain for a bit. Not long, but rain is rain," I shout to the man walking out of the warehouse.

It feels like throughout most of my life in Bolton, Jacob has been around. He's a couple years younger than Ezra, but they played basketball together. Our families have both been here since the beginning of this towns founding and have known each other since.

"God knows we need a good rain. It's been a dry summer and I'm gettin' real tired of looking at brown and yellow grass," he laughs with a grin.

I nearly sigh aloud. These are the conversations of Bolton, Texas. The weather, football, the ranches, who's gotten married and who's gotten divorced. Nothing ever happens here, and it is hard to fathom that everyone is just okay with that.

I shifted on my feet and looked around the warehouse awkwardly. It smells like dust and feed. The stuffiness to it makes me wonder why the hell Jake would ever want to work here all day.

"Ezra said you'd be by today; he didn't know what time though. If I'd have known you'd be here so early I would have dragged Tom in. It's just me right now," he says, putting on a worn pair of gloves.

"I can handle a little heavy lifting, Jacob," I counter, walking back to my pickup to grab my own gloves.

"Yes ma'am," he says with a sly smile. He motions for me to back my pickup into the warehouse so we could start loading.

I can feel the sweat trickling down my back as I sat on the tailgate, exhausted. Apparently no matter how you try to beat the heat, loading multiple 50-pound bags of feed in a hot, stuffy warehouse will really take it out of you. Jake loaded quite a few more bags than I did but we were both spent. He took a rag from his back pocket and wiped his forehead.

"Meet you inside? I need to grab some stuff from the store. I'll pay for it all together," I added. Jake nods and motions for me to go ahead of him.

The air in the store itself was much cooler, as the air conditioner was probably on full blast. It sent a chill down my spine, seeing as I was now covered in sweat.

I walked straight to the aisles to the right of the front door. The aisles, as bare as they were, were still slightly taller than I was, making this place into some kind of small maze if you didn't know where you were going.

As I try to find where the needle-nose pliers are, I hear the bell above the front door chime, signaling that someone had just walked in.

Sure enough, the chatter of a couple older women fills the store. I know both of those voices, hell everyone knows them around here. These two were notorious for chattering through every barbeque, bonfire, and event this town had. The only time these two ever shut their mouths was during church, but that might just be some divine intervention at work.

I can't see them, they were on the other side of the maze, but I certainly can hear them.

"You know it's coming up again. Two years if you can believe it!," one chimes. "I always forget about it, I get so caught up in my grandsons starting school again that it slips my mind until someone mentions it."

"Nick and Olivia were such good people, very Christian, they never missed a church service. It's such a shame. Such a shame. And those kids of theirs! I didn't see them at church last week. But my gosh, they've grown up so much since the accident," the other adds. I might as well jab those pliers into my chest, it might hurt less. I can't even be in this town an hour without some reminder of it. When will people learn that it's just not okay to keep reminding us about it? And to base my parents' value as people on how often they went to church, I had half a mind to go and cuss them out. But that would only fuel the fire.

"Ezra is such a good man, dropping everything to take care of his siblings like that. I wonder if he knows my Caroline is single? She's about his age I think. Oh they would be so cute together," Mrs. Bennet fawns.

Oh for the love of God.

"Oh of course they would! What a sweet idea. I'm sure you remember, my sister has a grandson that is a Senior this year, and that Savannah is just as darling as her mother was," the other remarked. I freeze where I stand. As much as I don't want to hear what these two are saying, I can't move an inch.

"Such a wild thing though! It's a real shame she isn't more lady like. But that's what happens when young girls lose their mothers. They never learn these things. The last time I saw Savannah she looked like she'd been dragged here. Besides, she's 'bout as sweet as vinegar these days," Mrs. Bennet chuckles.

I can feel my jaw start to clench and my hand fall into a fist at my side. I've heard enough. I grab the first pair of pliers I see and walk as quickly as I can to the register. I have to walk past them to get to the register, and I try to not look as bothered as I am while passing the two older women. Jake is waiting at the counter, and judging by the look on his face, he'd seen all that. His dark eyes look troubled as he types amounts into the register.

Ezra had sent enough cash with me to cover the feed and the new pair of pliers. Just enough.

"Those two could make a preacher cuss. Don't," he sighs, "don't let them get to you." I lift my eyes to look at him. His stare flickered from my face to over my shoulder, looking at Mrs. Bennet most likely.

"Don't let them hear you. That can't be good for business."

"I don't really care. There's no other place for them to get their sewing supplies in this town. They'll be back, trust me," he smirks. Jake reaches his hand out with my change.

"Oh, could I grab a newspaper? I told Ezra I'd grab it while I was in town," I say handing him the change back.

"Don't worry about it. On me. Tell Ez I said hey," he says with a nod towards the shelf of papers.

A familiar feeling settles in my stomach. I'm a little uncomfortable with not paying. Not because I want to, but because I don't want to accept his charity. We got a lot of charity after the accident. None of us wanted it, but people offered anyway. Sometimes it's just easier, to not fight it, to let them feel like they helped and didn't just make you feel worse.

I smile and nod my thanks. I'm just glad I don't have to walk past those two women to get to the front door. I wave bye to Jake as I head through the back.

I look forward to the drive back out to the ranch more than I do the drive into town, but that doesn't stop the sinking in my stomach when I pass _that_ part of the road. The two wooden crosses haven't changed much since the town put them up a week or two after the accident. We didn't ask nor want them to do that, but that's just how this town works.

Everyone thinks of everyone else as family, and that means they involve themselves in your business and overstep. The crosses already have fake flowers laying below them. Soon there will be more, and then the anniversary will pass, and everyone will stop talking about it again. Except maybe Mrs. Bennet. That woman never shuts up about anything.

When I get back to the house everything is dark. But it always is these days. We never turn on a light unless we have to. Keeping the blinds shut keeps it cooler in here anyway. We all got used to living in the dark pretty quickly.

After the accident, Ezra was really sensitive to light. He still gets the splitting headaches every once in a while, but they are mostly stress related. We kept the lights off to make sure he was comfortable, but now it's more to keep the electricity bill down.

"Anybody home?" I call from the kitchen. It's Saturday afternoon, so I know they are both here somewhere. Adam had practice early this morning, and this is the one of the few days off Ezra gets a week.

My keys sing as I throw them in the bowl on the counter with the other two sets. Three car payments.

Ezra walks around the corner with a book in his hand. He tucks a business card into the pages as a makeshift bookmark.

"How's Jacob? Haven't seen that guy around much these days. He still putting up with Tom's lazy ass down at the store?" he remarks with a smirk. I toss the newspaper down on the kitchen island with a laugh.

"I think so. Tom wasn't there when I picked up the feed, though. Jake and I got it loaded fine."

He picks up the newspaper as Adam came into the kitchen. He doesn't acknowledge either of us, he just goes straight to the cabinet and pulls out a granola bar.

"It's my night to cook, remember? I'm going to go and feed the horses. Adam, can you move your pickup so I can back into the barn?" I ask with a pointed look.

Adams pickup is nowhere near the barn. I just need to get him alone. He seems to understand what I'm doing and nods. Thankfully, Ezra keeps reading the paper and doesn't seem to notice anything.

By the time we get outside the crickets are chirping. It's starting to cool down a bit. We walk in silence, our boots crunching the dry grass below our feet.

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" he asks when we got to my pickup.

"Can you help me unload the feed? I just didn't want to ask you in front of Ezra," I answer. Adam wears a knowing look on his face, and nods.

"I get why you're doing this, but don't feel like you need to beat around the bush with him. He'd understand, Sav."

"I'm not as sure of that as you are. I don't want him to feel any worse than he already does. You know how those injuries affected him, Adam. Not just physically. And I don't want him to use that shoulder too much," I sigh. "His shoulder is just getting better. What if he hurt it again? If every once in a while, we volunteer to do the heavy liftin'—" I trail off. "I'm more afraid of hurtin' his pride than his shoulder. It's just best for now that we—"

"That we insult him by not letting him do his job? We treat our 23-year-old brother like a child?" he counters, clearly agitated. "He did okay hauling hay this summer for the Howards. He's getting some of his strength back."

"Feed is a lot heavier than hay, Adam. Just – please. Next time I'll let him help," I finished. His blue eyes locked with mine and for a moment it was almost as if we were battling wills. I knew he was right; we couldn't handle Ezra with kid gloves. I drop my gaze. His posture relaxes as he takes a deep breath.

"Bring your pickup around so we can start unloading," he suggests while motioning with his hand.

The sun was just starting to set by the time we finished unloading and got back to the house. Adam disappeared back into his room while I started on dinner. We had a rotation set for who cooks on what nights. We all fend for ourselves for breakfast and lunch each day, but we try to eat dinner as a family every night. Mom always insisted that we all eat together at least once a day.

Ezra's sitting at the kitchen counter reading his book again. Besides the sounds of me cooking, the house is silent again. It always seems so quiet. Between Ezra's quiet manner and Adam's disappearing acts, it's a wonder I haven't just resorted to talking to myself.

Cutting the lasagna into serving sizes, I break the silence and call out to Adam from the kitchen that the food was ready. In typical 16-year-old boy fashion, he immediately resurfaces solely for food.

After the accident we all had enough food to feed us for months. People from town made us casseroles and different dishes to say they were sorry for our loss and whatnot. We appreciated the food, we really did, but none of us appreciated the constant babying from the townspeople. They cooked for us, constantly called to make sure we 'didn't need anything' and even offered to drive Adam to the hospital after school to see Ezra and I. We ate those sympathy meals nearly 3 times a day, thawing them out one at a time and returning the empty dishes at church on Sunday.

It's usually Ezra or I that would start the conversations at dinner. Adam is typically silent until its necessary that he speak up. Especially around Ezra. Like right now, he was shoveling forkfuls of lasagna into his mouth at an alarming rate. Ezra's still reading his book, though I'm not quite sure how what with the dim lighting in here and all.

"I heard today that Mrs. Bennet is planning Caroline's wedding. I'm not sure what say Caroline's getting on anything, but Mrs. Bennet is pretty excited," I say, glancing at Ezra's reaction. He barely glances up from his book at the sound of my voice.

"Oh yeah? Who's she marrying?"

"You, apparently," I deadpan.

Adam erupts in laughter as Ezra groans and rolls his eyes. I can't help but chuckle as well. Most of the town knows about Mrs. Bennet's antics of trying to get Ezra and Caroline together since they were in high school.

"I thought she had moved on from that?" Ezra complains.

"Clearly not," Adam pipes up.

"Once she sets her mind to something…," I add.

The rest of dinner passes by almost silently. Ezra and I are continuing to push Adam for details about football and his classes for the new school year, but we're still getting one-word answers and shrugs. I had given up on getting any information from Adam a long time ago, but Ezra keeps trying. I can see how much it bothers him that Adam won't open up. More than once has Ezra pushed him too far and Adam would abruptly leave the room.

After the dishes are done, we all go our separate ways, as we do most nights. Adam disappeared back into his room while Ezra went to the living room to watch TV. Saturdays are one of the couple days a week where we had almost no commitments. Aside from tending to the horses and Adam's practice, the day was ours to fill.

This kind of freedom was rare, what with Ezra working long hours, Adam in high school and playing football, and me working two jobs on top of finishing high school online, we all were stretched thin with few hours to ourselves.

I slipped up the stairs and into my room quietly, trying not to disturb Ezra who was in the living room.

All of us have to wake up early tomorrow. Even though the heat is slowly fading away, it still gets unbearably hot in the middle of the day. Waking up before the sun to do chores around the barn was really the most comfortable option.

I still have an hour or two before I should probably go to sleep, and the cool summer night was too tempting to ignore.

I grab my worn denim jacket off the back of a chair and got my guitar from off my bed before heading for the front door.

I'm greeted with the loud chirping of crickets as the screen door shuts behind me. The air is humid and thick. It's supposed to rain tonight.

I take a seat on the steps that lead down to our front yard. The old wood creaks a little under my weight. This has always been one of my favorite spots, the front porch has an amazing view of the ranch. The house is up on a hill, so we have a pretty good view of the land as well as the town miles away. With the sun almost completely set now, there were just the lights from Bolton visible over the sweeping hills.

Softly, I begin strumming my guitar while humming to myself. With just the light sounds of the crickets and breeze, the music relaxes me nearly to the point of a trance. It's been a long day. Between waking up at 5:30 and hauling bags of feed in the heat twice today, I'm exhausted.

I get lost in the feeling of the strings under my fingers, the soft vibrations echoing through the guitar. It's hypnotic.

The wind begins blowing fiercely around me then. I'm not sure exactly how much time has passed since I came out here, but its noticeably cooler. There's a bit of a chill to the wind, signaling that rain is coming. The wind chimes on the other side of the porch finally pick up enough of a breeze to begin singing.

Slowly, I stand up from my place on the steps. I was beginning to get a little sore from the heavy lifting and sitting on the hard wood of the steps for so long definitely didn't help. I'm too young to feel this old.

The hinge of the screen door squeals as I pry it open again. I'm careful to make sure the door shut all the way; to make sure the rain doesn't get in. We haven't locked the doors to the house in years. Hell, I'm not sure if we ever have. The crime rate in this town was practically nonexistent, and it always has been.

Ezra had gone to sleep by the time I get back inside. The TV was turned off in the living room and it looked like the lights were off under his door.

Careful not to step on the creaky parts of the wood floor, I slowly make my way back to my room. The house was built by my great grandparents when they got engaged. They wanted to live on the family ranch, so they had to build their own home. Over the generations, the necessary updates have been made here and there. Most recently, my mom redid the kitchen about 7 years ago.

I can't help but smile as I remember the old metal mint green cabinets that we had throughout most of my childhood. I guess my grandparents were very fond of the color in the 50s, because my bathroom still has a mint green sink and bathtub. Redoing the upstairs bathrooms had been next on moms list of renovations.

As I softly shut the door behind me, I can hear the soft rain tapping against my window. Gentle summer showers were my favorite. I set my guitar in the chair in the corner and reached for the drapes on the window. The light by the barn door is illuminating the area around it. The trees are swaying with the breeze and I can see the rain is beginning to make puddles by the barn.

To ranchers, there is nothing more relieving than rain. The air cools, the grass is watered, and the dust won't blow. Rain meant, if even for just a day or two, things would be easier, and we won't have to worry.


End file.
